Where the Wind Blows
by TMNT Redneck
Summary: A journey across the Great Sea, an unknown tyrant, and new friends; Join the Champion of Redwall and the Prince of Mousethieves as they embark on yet another grand adventure. Rating subject to change; going to be bordering on a more mature T to an M later on.
1. Chapter 1

Dawn's warm rays cascaded over Mossflower Wood, bringing with them radiant life. Birds awoke from their slumber, and twittered happily to one another, fluttering around the high branches of oak, ash, beech, and countless other varieties of forest giants. Microscopic dust motes could be seen floating through the rays of light, pushed on by gentle breezes. These breezes tickled the whiskers and soft fur of the grey muzzle of a tiny raccoon. The young beast sneezed and cracked his eyes open, letting them adjust to the sunlight that was filtering through the trees. When he could see clearly, the small creature rubbed his eyes with a tiny paw and looked about him. The small clearing he was in was lush and green, with soft grass. The foliage around him was depressed softly into the earth, indicating where the young beast had slept.

Josiah Green Despallier stood slowly, and tried to gain his bearings. His little grey head throbbed, and his little stomach was contracting painfully in hunger. He had roamed for three days in strange country, and having been unable to find anything he knew as edible, the poor young creature had starved since he left the home of a kindly old mole-wife. Peering through the undergrowth, the young raccoon spied a sort of path. He trudged through, trying to avoid being whipped in the face by the sharp, thin branches. As Josiah stepped onto the path, a breeze blew from the north, carrying the scent of hot scones and oatcakes. Josiah didn't bother to look around, but immediately set off at a sprint, following his keen sense of smell. The young raccoon ran hard, his paws thudding sharply in the dirt. For what seemed like miles, he carried on, puffing with exertion, but too hungry to care. A church came into view, and from it drifted the mouth-watering scent. Josiah stumbled over his footpaws, lurching forward, and tumbled down a gentle slope in the path. When he at last came to a stop, he groaned, flicking his tail. The scent was so strong now, Josiah couldn't bear it. He reached out with an exhausted paw and clawed his way forward. Head throbbing worse than it was before, the young raccoon sobbed for breath and cried out in agony as his lungs pumped uselessly. In his blurred vision, he saw a lightly clawed footpaw, and heard a sort of strange mumbling before he succumbed to the blackness that fringed his mind.

The young raccoon awoke sometime later, and looked about to find himself in the church. A mousewife was soothing his brow with a cool rag. Josiah groaned, twisting his head out of her reach as he tried to sit up.

"Lay back down, little one," the mouse said. "I'll fetch you some soup."

Josiah watched as she pushed aside a curtain and walked into the common room. He heard the voices of two male creatures.

"...Where he came from..."

"Dunno... Strange beast..."

"...Woken up..."

Josiah could only piece together parts of their conversation as he flickered in an out of concentration. Soon the kindly mouse wife entered the side room again with a steaming bowl of hot mushroom and leek soup, and some fresh barleybread. She also bore with her a beaker of cold mint tea and a porcelain cup. Josiah sat up and accepted the food gratefully.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said hoarsely.

"It was nothing. My name's Columbine," the mouse said.

"I'm Josiah G. Despallier," the young raccoon muttered around a mouthful of soup-soaked bread. He swallowed and took a drought of the tea. "Come from 'cross th' sea."

Columbine nodded in fascination. Now she knew why his accent was so different. The mouse wife looked curiously at the young raccoon.

"What sort of beast are you?" she asked, then blushed. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude."

The younger beast shook his head. "Naw, 'tis nothin', ma'am. I'm called a 'coon back home. Some call me 'raccoon'."

Columbine and Josiah looked up when the curtain was pushed aside and two male mice filled the space. The taller one was thin but able-looking with hard grey eyes. He was intimidating to Josiah, and the coon averted his eyes and looked to the other mouse. This one was a bit on the chubby side with mischievous green eyes. The young raccoon instantly took a liking to this one, though he couldn't explain why if asked.

"What's such a young beast like yerself travelling the Great Sea for?" asked the thinner mouse.

Josiah paled a bit, then shrugged nervously. "I, uh... Got myself caught by an enemy patrol... Tried to escape, but them yaller rats tossed me on a ship headed here."

"Enemy patrol?" the chubbier mouse asked.

"Yessir. There's a war goin' on over there, y'know. Evil tyrant an' 'is horde tryin' to work his way into power. Beasts there don't much like it- they've never been subjected to tyranny an' ain't about to convert."

Columbine spoke up. "Martin, Gonff. Please, let the child eat. There'll be time for talk later."

The mouse wife ushered the pair out of the room and returned to Josiah's side, sitting at the edge of the bed. She watched as Josiah finished off his food and drank the last of the tea.

"I'm terribly sorry about them- they tend to be a bit nosy," Columbine said with a small smile.

"Don't worry ma'am. They've a right to ask."

The young beast stood up, and followed Columbine out of the room. The mouse introduced him. The tall, thinner mouse was named Martin- he was a warrior that had saved the country from the rule of a wildcat tyrant seasons before. The chubbier one was Gonff, the Prince of all Mousthieves. He was Martin's best mate.

"Warrior..." Josiah whispered, awed by the word. "Our beasts are simple ones. They farm what they need and trade for what they don't got. We haven't got many warriors. Our army's in a right mess- we don' even have a real commander."

Martin and Gonff looked at each other. The pair had longed for a new adventure, but a far off war was no excuse to go travelling... Was it? Redwall and the surrounding country had seen peace ever since the defeat of the evil wildcat Queen Tsarmina. Young Josiah had to be returned to his home. If they just tossed him on a ship, who knows what would happen? The idea of a new adventure was sounding more and more appealing. And, as a warrior, Martin couldn't deny help to innocent beasts; no matter the fact that he had no knowledge of these beasts.

"I know it ain't really my place to ask..." Josiah said sheepishly. "But maybe a good warrior such as yourself could rally some beasts to help. I've done lost two of my brothers and my uncle- who was raisin' us -to the war. My friend Rheza lost her six brothers, and two cousins. It's hit ever'body pretty hard."

Martin stared into the murky grey depths of the raccoon's eyes, and couldn't deny the child's request.

Three days were spent at the Mousethief's home. During this time, Josiah met and befriended Gonflett- Gonff and Columbine's only son. The two were virtually inseperable by the middle of the second day, running through the immediate forest and laughing as they set off their own traps; sometimes falling into pits, other times being strung up by their footpaws. Life was good and fun aplenty to these young beasts.

During these three days Martin and Gonff were making plans for their journey. In order to raise beasts to help in the cause, they would first stop at Redwall. Beasts who fought to free Mossflower against Tsarmina could understand the trials of the beasts across the sea. Surely the pair could rally enough beasts to have a considerable force even before they set paw on the strange land. From Redwall they would continue southwest toward the shore near Salamandastron. They could recruit willing beasts all the way down to the shore. As for how they actually got across the sea, Martin and Gonff weren't really sure. But Josiah assured that while he was on the coast, there were ships aplenty coming and going. It was just a matter of how far south they managed to travel.

On the evening of the third day, when the Mousethief family was asleep, Josiah found himself awake and squinting into the hot embers of the dying fire. He heard something shift, and glanced over to see Martin. The mouse warrior sat beside him, not saying a word. Josiah shuddered a bit at his presence and returned his gaze to the red embers.

"Trouble sleeping?" came the warrior's gruff voice.

Josiah shrugged. Martin looked over at the youth.

"Thinking?"

"Not thinkin'," Josiah sighed. "Just rememberin'."


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: I regret to tell you that this will be a short chapter. Just a little bit of backstory here on our little coony friend. I'm sorry if, in the last chapter, I led you on to believe that Josiah was an extremely young beast. In reality, he'd be about a thirteen or fourteen year old kid. When the following happened, he would have been about ten or eleven. Oh, and before I forget- this is where that higher T rating will be in effect. Tell me if it should be bumped up to M or not.**_

_He remembered that day so clear, that every time he closed his eyes, the image would spring forth from the depths of his memories. It was summer that day, and unbearably hot. Amos had pardoned Josiah and his pup sister Saracen from their chores to go swimming in the creek that pushed lazily through their property. The two raccoons thanked their uncle repeatedly, and raced each other there. Josiah, being of longer legs and greater speed, reached the creek first and dived in ten paces before his sister. When Sara reached him, the pair kicked and squealed, each trying to completely submerge the other's body. As the two laughed in a shallow end of the creek, Josiah was distracted by the glimmer of sunlight on steel._

_Raccoons were naturally curious creatures, and the pair of pups that had gone swimming that fateful day were no exception. Josiah was entranced by the glimmer, and as soon as it disappeared, he and Sara were out of the creek looking for the object that shined so. The pair ended up half the distance from their uncle's cottage when they saw a tall pillar of black smoke floating lazily into the air. Josiah took a step back, but his hesitation was brief; the young raccoon set off at a sprint. He knew that something was wrong. Sara had set off behind him, but fell back after a couple moments' hard jog. Her lungs couldn't pump right. Josiah didn't worry about her, but kept running. He saw them almost immediately._

_There were about two score of them, those that set fire to his uncle's cottage. They were in a circle, jeering and encouraging one another in whatever sick sport they were making. Josiah stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a scream erupt form the center of the circle. Tears welled in his eyes as his keen eyes caught those of his aunt. She didn't see him._

_"Aunt Cherry..." Josiah whispered, shaking his head._

_The vermin leader saw the young raccoon, and snarled to three or four of his creatures. They almost had the audacity to glare at him for interrupting their fun, but thought wiser, and set off at a run for the youth. Josiah turned on his heel and started running again, but his lungs were still burning, and his soaked fur hampered his retreat. The vermin caught up to him quickly, kicking his footpaws out from under him and laughing down at their new prisoner. _

_A wicked looking rat smiled down at Josiah. "Lookit here. A little mite!"_

_The rat kicked Josiah savagely in the ribs, and laid about him with the flat of his rapier. The other vermin caught on and started beating the young beast- kicking, and whipping, and spitting. The leader approached, a look of satisfaction marking his features and one ear cocked back at the scene he had left. His grin dropped and he roared to his vermin._

_"Stop whippin' 'im!" the leader cried. When the vermin stopped, he grinned savagely and licked a strange substance from his paw. "Let the pup up and haul 'im back. We'll break 'im soon enough, an' then he'll make us a fine slave."_

_The vermin picked Josiah up by whatever their paws landed on. The young raccoon yelped as savage claws dug into the sensitive fur of his belly and the inner, fleshier parts of his arms. They held him still, absorbing all his struggles easily and keeping his head forward and eyes open as they and their comrades had their way with the creature who raised him from early childhood._

Josiah released a shuddering breath at the memory, curling inward. Martin stared at him in the firelight. The mouse put a hesitant paw around the youth's shoulders, drawing him close. The young raccoon's ears were pinned to the back of his head as he sobbed into Martin's tunic.

"T-They didn't... They didn't stop! He called off His beasts before they killed her, and-and... She was kep' alive for sev'ral days, and..." Josiah sobbed, shaking his head. Martin shushed him quietly, gently reminding him that he'd wake the others. Josiah couldn't finish that thought so he started another, sobbing in a more quiet tone. "They hanged- hic -they hanged Unc in fron' o' the cottage... Threw spears an'- an' knives, until they cut him down... 'E landed right in front of me, Martin!"

Martin knew that he couldn't say anything to ease the youth's pain, so he just held the younger beast silently, until Josiah cried himself to sleep. Then, Martin continued to rock him slowly for a moment before laying the exhausted pup down and covering him with a nearby quilt. Josiah let out a mournful whimper and snuggled deeper into the quilt. Martin kept a vigil on the youth, until exhaustion overcame him and he drifted off. Every time Josiah let out a troubled murmur behind him, an ear twitched, then a whisker and a paw, before both creatures settled.

* * *

Kolbyr strode casually over to the high, arching window of his fortress. His mate, Kalla, joined him, looking contentedly out across the orchards. The ratwife smiled inwardly. Everything the light touched- everybeast that breathed in those lands belonged to them. They would own it all until they passed. And then it would be passed on to their son. Kalla rubbed her swollen belly absently and looked up at her tall husband.

Kolbyr was taller than her by a head- possibly as much as a head and a half. His fur was dark-tinged and glossy. Under said pelt rippled strong, solid muscles. The creature's smile and bright green eyes could take the hiss out of an angry rattlesnake. Just like the poison blades he'd adopted from the Kroniks of the far southeastern coast. Garbed in a long velvet cloak pulled over a dark blue tunic and coat, he looked almost peaceful. But in his eye there was a certain sort of flame, that flared when he witnessed any sort of vile, cruel or immoral act. Every seventh day was his day of festivities. Kalla was sent off, to spend time with other wives of high ranking vermin. Kolbyr and his officers attended a fine cock fight, drinking steadily as the birds were pitted against each other. The tournaments were elaborate, the winning bird moving on to a next level, and the dead one being plucked by a waiting slavebeast to be fried later. Whatever bird was deemed the 'champion' was highly praised, and earning rights to the finest hens. Their offspring would be used again seasons later. After the tournament, there would be a fine show. Acrobats, magicians, and all kinds of performing types were called upon. In their drunken stupor, the vermin would cheer loudly, fight, curse, and spit. Wherever the performance was held would surely be wrecked in the first hour or so. When the performers had finished their acts, then came the whores. They weren't common females, like the beasts he'd set upon when he was just rising to power. They were fine beasts, the best to be had, and experienced.

Kalla felt no jealousy toward them. She felt no sadness at the thought of her husband going off to whores, leaving her with those other lonely ratwives. She felt a bit of pride. Kalla could have Kolbyr at any time she pleased, had the privilege of being his one and only mate, and mother to his offspring. If any of the whores became pregnant with his whelp, they were killed almost immediately, their organs cut out of their bodies and strung up for the crows and ravens to eat. Kalla grinned wickedly. She alone could survive. She was Kolbyr's mate, and he loved her with everything he had to offer. Perhaps it was strange for vermin types, to feel love, to feel tenderness. But fairy tales weren't meant solely for woodlanders.

"Has the rebellion been crushed, My Lord?" Kalla whispered.

"Mostly."

"And your enemies vanquished, My Lord?"

"Of course."

Kalla and Kolbyr silently walked the fortress, making sure that everybeast there was doing his or her job, and doing it correctly, before retiring to their chambers.

_**A/N 2: Again, sorry about the short chapter. Well, what are your thoughts? Anything to say about anybeast? Questions, comments, or a friendly 'howdy'd be just fine.**_


End file.
